


Body Shop

by fransoun



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, MTMTE 51 spoilers, it's fluff, nothing but fluff, post-eos, pre-MTMTE 51
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fransoun/pseuds/fransoun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift became Deadlock. Deadlock became Drift. Drift joined the Autobots, Drift left the Autobots.</p><p>Every time Drift has changed in life, his frame has changed, too, and this time is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Shop

"I want to change my frame."

Drift's words broke the silence in the cockpit as Ratchet piloted their shuttle through the reaches of the space. They'd just come out of a quantum jump, so their little ship needed someone at the helm to guide it through the space between the stars while its engines gathered charge for their next leap.

It wasn't a particularly processor-intensive task, and, lulled by the glittering expanse of stars set deep in velvet black wrapped all around them and the soothing, rhythmic ventilations of the speedster sitting cross-legged next to him (those luscious, curvy thighs splayed open for him to admire... _focus_ , Ratchet) he had fallen into a low-power state. He'd thought Drift had been meditating, trying to embrace the transcendental or some such scrap, but apparently not. The speedster evidently had something on his mind.

Ratchet stirred, optics flickered over the controls, checking that all the gauges and readouts were in still the green. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Drift shifted uncomfortably. "I know it won't make any sense to you, but I'd like to reformat myself."

Ratchet grunted noncommittally as he reached out to flip a few switches. "Try me."

Out of the corner of his optics, Ratchet saw Drift's own optics widen. "Well. Uh. When I became a - when I took the name Deadlock, and then when Wing - when I found Crystal City, and after I - " Drift broke off uncertainly and made a hesitant stabbing motion at his own chest. " - at Vector Sigma, I, uh - I changed."

Ratchet pressed one final button and shifted himself to face Drift. The chairs in the cramped cabin didn't swivel, but Ratchet managed to turn himself anyways. He didn't say anything, though, just met Drift's gaze, giving him his full attention.

Under Ratchet's scrutiny, Drift fidgeted, tangling his fingers in his lap. "I came to realize that at each of these moments, the predestined path of my life diverged from the course it had taken before, just as a river may - " Drift must have seen the look in Ratchet's optics, because he coughed and hastily continued. "Anyway, I changed. Who I was changed. And each time I changed, my body changed with me, like a physical reminder of who I'd become."

Ratchet sighed. He knew Drift sometimes dialed up the spiritualism to eleven just to get under his plating, but it really did mean something to the kid. And Ratchet still wasn't entirely sure what had happened inside Drift's head back on that damned stone planet, but whatever it was, Drift had seemed much more - insert air quotes here - 'at peace' with himself ever since they'd put it behind them. So if that meant putting up with incense burning in their quarters and whatever Drift was on about right now, Ratchet supposed he could live with it.

Drift continued. "And then I left the Autobots, and I thought that was it, this was the end. I'd be alone for the rest of my life."

The speedster ducked his head. "But then you came after me. You told me you thought I was special all those years ago, and you really, really meant it. Leaving the Autobots, facing up to my past and what I'd done instead of running away from it, and _you_ , coming all the way out here to save me...it's changed me, just as much as Crystal City or Vector Sigma ever did. And though we are our sparks, and our bodies are but vessels, I - " A warning growl from Ratchet stopped him. "I'd - I'd like to commemorate it. With you."

Ratchet leaned back against the shuttle wall, folding his arms across his chest, an inexplicable tightness in his throat. When he spoke, his words came out much more gruffly than he'd intended. 

"Well, I can perform those procedures for you, but there's no way I can do it here. We don't have any of the supplies or equipment I'd need, and we certainly don't have the space. But..."

Drift's face lit up.

Ratchet pulled up the navigational computer and scrolled through a list of nearby inhabited worlds. "Here." He pointed to one of the listings. "It's a small, out-of-the-way world that used to supply Cybertronians, and the war's not been over for too long now, so they might still have what we're looking for. Sound good?" 

Drift nodded happily, finials thumping against the wall behind him.

Ratchet punched in the planet's coordinates, and they leapt.

~*~*~*~

The two mechs had to duck to enter the warehouse - either a deliberate snub to its Cybertronian customers or a necessity of its prefabricated architecture, Ratchet couldn't decide which - and, as they straightened, shaking the dust from outside off their, looked around and found it...empty.

Not of merchandise - fully-stocked shelves still lined the walls, and round display kiosks still littered the floor, providing potential buyers just enough space to walk between them as blue holograms of the products on sale slowly rotated above them, twinkling in the air - but of customers.

The only other living being Ratchet could see in the store was an organic being Ratchet assumed was the proprietor standing behind a counter all the way in the back. It had looked up when the two Cybertronians had entered but hadn't acknowledged them any further.

"All right, kid," Ratchet said, hands on his hips, surveying the room. "Where do you want to start?"

"Aha!" Drift reached into his subspace and pulled out a datapad with a flourish. "I already made a list!"

"A list." Ratchet repeated. He wondered vaguely if this was how Rodimus felt sometimes…

  * thicker chest plate for Ratchet



Ratchet rolled his optics. "It's already plenty thick, kid. I'm a combat medic, remember?"

Drift shook his head. "You agreed that you'd take precautions if I let you travel with me. It's going to be dangerous - "

" _Let_ me? _Let_ me travel with you? Listen, kid, I was coming along whether you liked it or not - "

Drift stepped up close to Ratchet, cutting off his tirade, and placed a gentle hand over Ratchet's spark, gazing deep into Ratchet's optics. "Besides, there's something in here that's precious to me."

Ratchet swatted Drift's hand off his chest, staring at the ground and muttering something under his breath that almost sounded like "I love you, too."

Drift happily added the model he'd selected to their cart.

  * new chevron for Ratchet



"Hmmm," Drift said, holding up a display model up to Ratchet's helm. "No, too thick." He tossed it off to the side and picked up another one.

Ratchet glowered, arms folded over his chest. "You know, I don't need a new chevron. The one I have now works just fine."

Drift ignored him, tilting his head back and forth to get a better look at the current possibility. "No, too stubby." It landed in the growing pile of rejects.

Ratchet felt his jaw clench, but he held his helm still.

"Yes! This is it!" Drift held out his latest selection to Ratchet. Ratchet took it from him, turning it over in his hands. It was a little thinner than his present model, just about as pointy, and made of a single continuous piece of metal, rather than separate two prongs connected to a center piece.

"Fine." Ratchet grabbed the corresponding box and tossed it into the cart. "So now can we - "

But Drift still wasn't listening. He'd already bent over to look at the next shelf down. "Now, how about a chin piece…"

  * new shoulder pauldrons for Drift



Drift paged carefully through the holo-catalog, examining each of the speedster models for sale with an intensity that Ratchet hadn't seen from him since they'd entered the store. Drift's old shoulders, the ones he wore now, were sleek and curved, with a silky smooth cambre Ratchet had loved to rub his fingers across. But the models Drift was looking at now were harder, deliberately angled with excessive points on the edges.

Ratchet still thought that all of Drift's prattling on about auras was complete and utter scuff, but body language - now that was a proven science. So Ratchet simply stood next to Drift as he made his choice, quietly lending the swordsmech his support.

  * Drift's thighs and waist



Ratchet was irrationally pleased no major modifications to either of those two items had made it onto Drift's list.

  * holsters



"We'll match!" Drift said. "You'll have your holsters for your guns, and I'll have my sheaths for my swords!"

Ratchet stared incredulously at Drift, who appeared so excited at the idea of 'matching' Ratchet that he was practically bouncing on his pedes.

"...fine." Ratchet relented. As Drift spun around and practically skipped away, Ratchet yelled after him, jabbing a finger at the swordmech's retreating back. "But they're not just going to be for guns, okay? Get some big enough for medical supplies, too!"

  * paint



Drift held up an orange paint chip to Ratchet's frame and a red paint chip to his own. "I don't want anyone confusing you for me on the battlefield."

"Drift, no mech in their right mind could possibly confuse the two of us. You're all - " Ratchet outlined a curvy shape in the air with his hands. "And I'm all - " This time Ratchet traced out a blocky rectangle with hard ninety degree angles and straight edges.

Drift laughed and kissed him on the nose, adding white, black, and a small can of dark grey paint to their cart as well. "Don't worry. I'll make sure our paint jobs complement each other."

  * one (1) Autobot badge



"Are you sure about this?" Ratchet asked, gently cupping Drift's face with his hand.

Drift met his optics and nodded, pressing his cheek into Ratchet's palm.

~*~*~*~

Ratchet stood before the two holograms floating in front of him - one of himself and one of Drift, full-size simulations of what they would look like after their reformatting. There were a couple of changes Ratchet would be making himself with the limited raw materials they'd had on hand - moving Drift's finials out away from his helm, for instance, and widening the vents beneath them. The rest of the alterations would come from the modifications they'd just purchased.

Ratchet's new frame looked pretty much the same as his old one. But Drift's...

Ratchet sighed. He'd been debating mentioning it to the kid, but Drift wasn't an idiot. If he hadn't noticed by now, he certainly would once the mods were attached.

Drift came up beside Ratchet. "What's up, Ratch?"

Ratchet gestured at the Drift hologram in front of them. "Y'know, kid...these changes..." Ratchet took a deep breath. "...they'll make you look more like Deadlock did."

There was silence for a moment. Then Drift answered softly. "I know."

Ratchet turned to look at him, raising an optic ridge.

"Do you remember what I looked like after Crystal City, when we met again on Earth?" Drift asked. Ratchet dug through his memory files and pulled up an image file, and his optics widened. Drift nodded.

"I'll look a little bit like that again, too."

Drift leaned against Ratchet, and Ratchet looped his arm around the speedster, holding him close. Drift rested his head on Ratchet's shoulder.

"Every time my appearance changed, it changed completely, especially when I had a choice in it. I guess I always was trying to outrun my past, to pretend I wasn't the mech I had been before."

Ratchet listened.

"But that's not true, is it? I was Deadlock. I still am. And I was the Drift in Crystal City, and I was the Drift at Vector Sigma. And I think...I think it's time to stop running from that. I _want_ to stop running from that. It's time I turned and faced it. And maybe one day, I'll even be able to accept it."

Ratchet turned his head and planted a soft kiss on Drift's helm. "All right then. Let's get started."


End file.
